The Legendary Knight
by CrystalMoonlightII
Summary: Set shortly after the events of my previous story, Our Little Secret, we see the true power of a knight and his dedication to the crown. With the day all but lost, Frederick stands tall. He will fight for his king, and hold back the enemy at any cost! Walhart's forces will not reach Chrom! Rated T for some violence. ONESHOT FOR NOW! Maybe more later!


**This came to mind a little while after I finished writing my last Fire Emblem story, Our Little Secret. Set shortly after the previous story in the same timeline, we see the dedication of a knight to his lord. This story chapter is partially influenced by the song Tousei created by the band Dir En Grey. Please enjoy!**

 **Also, a big thank you once again to all those who read Our Little Secret. Your support of that short story was totally overwhelming, and I certainly am thinking about continuing it after this.**

* * *

 **The Legendary Knight**

The forces of King Chrom stood decimated in the wake of the overwhelming might that the Conqueror of Valm possessed. Even the shine of Robin's superior tactics was not enough to sway the tide of battle, and alas, defeat was all but assured for the men of Ylisse on this cold winter evening. They had overcome the initial surge of troops from the Valmese, and even brought the war to foreign shores, but victory was not there's on this day.

"Father," cried a hoarse female voice, "Don't you dare give up the ghost! You have Feroxi blood in your veins."

Severa stood there, frozen with fear and uncertainty. The wound her father Lon'qu had sustained in the field of battle was somewhat serious. His eyes remained closed, but his chest continued to heave up and down slowly. Blood seeped from his side…. All the while, in the midst of this chaotic scene soldiers of Ylisse were retreating westward in the hope of escaping from certain death.

Tireless rain beat down hard, and at the forefront of this broken vanguard were Chrom and Robin, both men bewildered by the sheer scale of their defeat.

"Eighty thousand men, Robin," Chrom said grimly while placing a hand on the shoulder of his sworn brother, "We had the advantage and that dastard tore us apart."

Robin didn't speak at first, he couldn't. The entire strength of Ylisse lay scattered at his feet in a truly terrible scene of blood and demise. His stomach turned, nausea washed over Chrom's tactician. The sickness in his stomach combined with the pain in his heart. The sensation it created was quite unreal.

The silence seemed eternal, until Robin turned his eyes away from the terrible scene of fallen soldiers, shattered swords, and broken armour.

"It's my fault, Chrom," Robin declared, his expression somewhat pained, "If I'd done a better job at coordinating the battle we wouldn't be in this mess."

Fire burned within the young king. It coursed through his veins, and unable to contain itself any longer, a low snarl escaped his lips, "It isn't your fault Robin….. Walhart… he's too strong."

"Milord," Armoured boots clunked from behind. Both men turned, their eyes met the familiar site of Frederick who stood there ever calm. Rain droplets slipped down the sleekly shone knight's armour that he wore.

"We must retreat now. I will hold our path of withdrawal so that the Valmese forces cannot follow," The words of the ever loyal knight remained clear and to the point. There was no fear in them, no remorse of any sort. He would do his duty for the realm. Fear was not something that Frederick the Wary knew when it came to the safety of the crown.

Chrom's expression fell. It was pained, filled with doubt and unease, "But if you do that you will-"

"Die? I think not, Milord, not when there are chores to be done this evening," The ever dependable Frederick said those words softly with a little smile. He knew not what it was to fear a mortal enemy. These were not the Risen. He could kill mortal men with a spear or an axe.

Robin nodded nervously, but at the same time, thankfully, "I'll move to help Severa with her father, before it's too late."

Chrom didn't answer, he didn't speak a word. His blue eyes remained downcast at the well-trodden mud on the ground. His heart burned, conflict resided within it, and it was aimed toward the choice one man was willing to make. Robin realized this quickly, and nodded to himself and his sworn brother in understanding. Moving fast, he went in the direction of his secret love, Savera. Her father was in dire need of healing.

"I don't want you to do this, Frederick. You're my most loyal general, and my friend," Chrom spoke those words from the heart, very softly indeed. They were words he seldom said, but their intent was so dearly genuine. They were words he could not say in the presence of others, perhaps out of pride, or nervousness, or both.

"There is no choice, Milord," The expression the knight bore became stoic and serious once more, "And besides, did you not once say that I only smiled when I brought down the axe?"

Chrom growled in frustration, "YOU WILL DIE if you choose to stay behind…. Please, listen to me…. You're twelve years my elder, but that doesn't stop you from being a dear friend to me."

Those words, they shattered the usual stern composure Frederick usually possessed. Instead of the eyes of a sentinel, his eyes bore warmth, and a genuinely warm smile curved his lips, "My Lord, it is for that very friendship that I choose to stay behind."

The steadfast knight placed one of his armoured hands onto the shoulder of his downhearted king, "I, Frederick, have been a friend and protector of your house for so long. I was sworn to serve your sister before you came of age…. I promised her I that I would defend the lives of her young siblings, and I have not forgotten that vow to this day."

In the midst of such sincere words, Chrom's composure cracked further, "Emmeryn…. Oh, Em…."

"I will return from this dire situation in one piece Milord, of that, I am most certain," Frederick smiled one final time before moving to look onward at the battlefield. The sight of such death and chaos did not make him feel fear in the slightest. His mind was made up.

While he was still uneasy, time remained short. His heart now quelled by the true loyalty of his general's intentions, Chrom gave a solemn nod before drying the lone tear of his left eye, "Very well. Gods be with you, friend."

* * *

 **Meanwhile….**

"Severa!" Robin called out at the top of his lungs when he saw her, kneeled in the mud, holding her father. His legs moved on their own accord in a hurry, so that he could be beside his love in her time of such dire need. He kneeled beside her, and while he did so, she looked up, eyes sore and puffy from crying.

"My father," Severa uttered in such deep pain, "Robin," She gripped the tacticians hand, "Tell me he'll he alright! TELL ME!" Her usually sharp tongue was nowhere to be found today. Severa's voice was small and broken. Her little heart throbbed in terror of what might happen.

Robin however, was calm and in control. He returned her grip on his hand with a little squeeze of his own, before producing a bottle from the satchel at his hip, "I have this medical concoction. It won't fix that wound completely, but it should close it long enough for us to get him to Lissa for healing."

Severa's slender form shuddered. She spoke no words for the moment, but simply threw her arms around the man she loved and clutched him tightly, "Thank goodness, Robin," she whispered with a tiny smile of relief.

A moment passed between the two, before Robin parted from Severa's caring embrace and kneeled beside Lon'qu, "Hang in there," the tactician spoke softly, "This is going to hurt…."

Lon'qu stirred painfully. For the briefest moment his eyes flickered open, "Robin…. My comrade," he uttered, before they closed again.

"Alright," Robin broke the seal on the bottle. Slowly and cautiously he poured the medicinal concoction all over Lon'qu's wound. The Feroxi sword master cried out as he writhed in extreme discomfort. It stung, no, more than that, it burned like the fires of a dragon. Moments passed, the pain wasn't going away, in fact, and it only escalated. That was until….

"It's working," Severa cried with relief. Her eyes were fixed upon the wound in amazement as it was slowly knitting itself back together in a crude fashion. The bleeding slowed for the moment, while the skin tied itself together again. The wound was closed, for now.

A small sigh escaped Robin's lips as he nodded thankfully, "It will hold until we get him to a healer. Thank the gods I've been able to save one life today."

Unable to contain herself, Severa chocked out a little whimper and looked to her father, "You're going to be okay. I'll get you the help you need," She turned to face Robin, "Hey…. Help me carry him, will you?!"

"There's the harsh tongue I know and love," Robin smiled the slightest bit as he placed his arm around Lon'qu, "Alright, on three! One…two… three!"

With a collective heave of might Severa and Robin pulled Lon'qu to his feet, "Okay, Severa, we better get back to Chrom," said Robin hastily.

"Gotcha!" She spoke back with a nod of agreement.

* * *

 **Sometime later….**

With great valour and determination the mighty steel wall that was Frederick picked up his shiny steel lance, and silver axe. He took several paces back until his mighty form barred the bridge that lead away from the battlefield. Chrom and what remained of his army had withdrawn. All the while, the Valmese had renewed their offensive. There had not been enough time to ensure that the forces of Ylisse could safely withdraw for the night….

Frederick heard their metal boots clunking ever closer. His eyes beheld the sight of their armour clad forms. They advanced ever closer toward the bridge, their goal. They wished to pursue Chrom and his battered forces further, but alas, in the pouring rain, this one man, Frederick the Wary would hold them back.

"Valmese soldiers, dozens of them," the mighty knight uttered beneath his breath. His hand subconsciously gripped the spear in his left hand tighter.

"Alright lads, there's only one of em! Skewer this fool quick! Master Walhart wants us to get across this bridge before sundown." The words of a Valm general, his tone, it was cocky and lacking in respect for his single foe.

The first squad of Valm soldiers stepped closer, their spears held outward. With each passing footstep they drew ever closer to the lone knight that blocked their advance.

"Yaaaaaah!" the first of the Valmese troops came lunging toward Frederick with a mighty war cry.

"Be gone, knave," said Frederick plainly as he stabbed his spear into the ground. Wasting no time, the mighty general reached for a handful of sharpened Javelins. With a deeo grunt, he tossed one, and another, and another, until his hand was empty. The pointed projectiles met their targets with extremely unforgiving precision. The first Valm soldier was impaled into the ground where he stood, with a violent gurgle and a sputter of crimson blood spewing from his lips.

The other two javelins landing moments later and they gave another two men a similar fate. Unflinching in the face of his spectacular odds, Frederick ripped his lance from the ground and twirled it skilfully, "You shall not pass here! My honour demands it!"

Rainfall soon picked up again. It beat down hard on the ground. What little that was left dry at that point was fast destined to become sodden mud along with all the rest. Meanwhile, in the face of his lone opposition, the Valm general laughed, "….I'm sick of hearing such Pegasus crap! Kill him already! Who does he think he is? King Marth?! Cavalry, charge!"

Horse hooves beat across the muddied ground. Their riders bore sharp swords and vicious expressions. War cries of determination roared from their pits of their bellies as they trained their weapons on Frederick. The sands of time slowed; by with each grain of sand the horsemen came closer. There were six of them in total, six of them, and only one of Frederick. Still, the lone warrior stood his ground. He waited and waited until the horsemen got closer, until they were within mere seconds of striking distance.

"Rawwwwr!" His body lunged forward on automatic reflex to all of his training. Frederick's lance tore straight through the belly of a horse that supported the rider.

The animal bucked and jerked while the Valmese soldier was tossed clean from his mount. With a powerful yank, Frederick tore his lance free from the animal, turned as fast as his armour would allow, whereupon he stabbed his bloodied weapon into another rider and stuck it in tight. The horseman fell with a thud, and unphased by the blood and carnage, Frederick reached for his weapon and ripped it from the belly of the felled cavalryman.

His body pumped on nothing short of sheer adrenaline at this point, the knight of Ylisse brought his full weight to bear as he went charging forward into the other four cavalrymen, each of which had been keeping their distance as the sight with the other two played out. They seemed nervous, no, more than that, they were scared.

It was as if a demon had overtaken Chrom's usually stoic protector in this battle. Another of the Valm horseman was struck from his mount when Frederick came in on the offensive and literally tackled him to the ground, and with a brutal stomp, squashed his head.

Terror tipped through the bodies of the three surviving cavalrymen. They pulled their horses back in sheer disbelief of what they were seeing. They dared not look directly into the eyes of Frederick, for when they did, horror awaited them. Instead, they turned tail and ran, "Fall back…. He's a monster!"

Frederick's lance was spent, he knew it now. The instrument of battle was bloodied and jarred. Alas, with need of more offensive power, he brought his mighty axe to bear and swung it wildly at one of the retreating Valmese soldiers. The powerful weapon shattered the man's armour as it punched rather easily into his soft skin. Unable to withstand the sheer force of the hit, he fell too in a majestic splash of crimson red.

It splattered the face of Fredrick slightly, but deterred him, it did not. He turned in order to face his enemies and stood as tall like a mighty oak, "You shall not pass me. Those of you who try shall meet their end. Heed the words of Frederick the Wary."

Fury coursed through the viens of the general in charge. His men were been stopped by a single lone soldier. It was truly annoying to watch beyond any rational means. Therefore, intent on bringing an end to this so called Frederick the Wary, he dismounted his horse, his weapon drawn to kill.

"I'll bring an end to you," the General of Valm declared confidently, "My Lord Walhart shall have your head on a bloody pike by the end of this day…."

"You may try, noble warrior," Frederick spoke in retort, his weapon gripped tightly in hand.

Alas, with little else to say, both men charged forth with powerful roars of brute strength bellowing from the pits of their stomachs. Their weapons glimmered slightly as the sleek raindrops trickled down. Thunder cracked in the sky, clouds of blackness covered the entirety of this macabre scene, and alas, battle was met….

 ***Shiiiing!***

A crack of mightily powerful lightening exploded in the not so distant sky. Two blades met one another with a powerful intent to kill. Alas, in the midst of a single powerful exchange, both the general of Valm and Frederick stood with shaky breaths, their weapons crossed

"Damn you, dastard…." The leader of the Valm troops stammered. Blood pooled around the corner of his cracked, dry lips. That was, before it came spewing out of his mouth and down his front. His soldiers gasped at the sight. Frederick's axe was jammed squarely into his shoulder, while his own his was stabbed into Frederick's side.

However, the royal knight of Ylisse was the one who gave a pained smile in this encounter, "Your best is still not enough, sir." In a single mighty heave, Frederick tore his axe out of his foe's shoulder, before sending it crashing down square upon his neck. The resulting blow was so forceful that it sent the Valm General's head clear from the shoulders that previously held it.

Yet, all was not well for Frederick. His wound to the side bled quite heavily. In fact, the pain was substantial indeed. Not wasting time, he gripped the small axe that was buried into his side, tore it free, and let out a mighty roar of strength.

"Your general has fallen, soldiers of Valm! Tell me now…. Who else wishes to pass?" Frederick questioned with extreme prejudice. When it came to defending the safety of his king, his usually calm demeanour evaporated, and a battle ready titan appeared.

Though demoralised, three more Valmese men charged forth with fire in their hearts. Each met the full force of the mighty power that was wielded by the knight of Ylisse, and each fell to the mighty bashing of an axe. Many more came after them, and went, each falling victim to the axe of doom, or a spear that would occasionally be picked up by Frederick in his wave of mighty terror. Despite his own injury, he simply tore down all of those who faced him without remorse. It was his duty, after all.

Time passed, battle continued on, and slowly but surely, more and more men fell, as their comrades had done before them. Eventually, however, the galloping of a sole set of horse hooves changed everything. A lone man came to the front of the Valm forces, his body, that of an ogre, his armour, blood red.

"Enough of this," the man of crimson armour spoke with absolute authority. His men, they quivered, but then stood tall in response to his words. Their obedience was total.

The sight of this sole man made even Frederick grip his now bloodied axe that little bit tighter, "Gods, it is Walhart."

The Conqueror of Valm himself had arrived, his eyes burning with both fire, and extreme curiosity. He brought his gaze of complete steel down upon Frederick. His brow rose in amusement, "To survive this long, alone. Alas, the men of Ylisse do have some metal after all."

Fate had come knocking. Frederick of house Ylisse would face it head on. With a grim smile now present across his usually stoic face, Chrom's most trusted royal knight tossed his axe to the ground so that he could collect a discarded lance from a dead soldier, "Allow me to show you that metal, Walhart. That is, if you accept my challenge."

His eyes, Frederick's powerful gaze, it knew not fear, even in the face of an enemy that was so feared, so dreaded, "Come forth, Conqueror, and I shall face you myself, as the hand of King Chrom."

"You know not your place," Walhart scoffed while he drew his mighty weapon, "But fear not, you shall learn it, very soon…."

Horse hooves carried Walhart ever closer to battle, and Frederick? He spun the lance in his hand with utmost skill; he flourished, and let out a mighty shout of sheer power, "FOR HOUSE YLISSE! For the glory of my King, Chrom!"

Two men, the god of conquest, and the knight of legend, clashed in battle…. Claps of thunder, signalled the beginning of a battle truly epic in scale.

"I shall not die," Frederick uttered as he swung his lance, "Not as long as my Lord depends upon my service!"

 **The End?**

* * *

 **Well, that marks the end of this little story, for now. I may well continue it later, or at least link it together with the events of Our Little Secret. Once again, I'm grateful to all of you that have taken the time to read this, and I genuinely hope you have all enjoyed it. There may be more coming soon! I'll write more Fire Emblem stories, I'm sure.**

 **Please feel free to leave some feedback if you would like. I'm very grateful for all the feedback that people are willing to give me on the things I write. Thanks again!**


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